


(Ex-)SOLDIER in the Streets, Lady in the Sheets

by Rider_of_Spades



Series: Pretty Maids All in a Row [2]
Category: Final Fantasy VII (Video Game 1997)
Genre: Cloud Strife actually enjoying dresses and makeup, Crossdressing, Crossdressing Cloud Strife, Drag Queen Cloud Strife, Eventual Happy Ending, Final Fantasy VII Spoilers, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, One-Sided Attraction, Post-Canon, Pre-Slash, References to Final Fantasy VII Remake
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:34:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24318142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rider_of_Spades/pseuds/Rider_of_Spades
Summary: His favourite dress of Tifa’s was the golden gown that her father had bought off a merchant from Midgar. In hindsight, it was a little gaudy, with its sequins and shiny beads, but in it, Tifa had looked like… like…Like a princess.
Relationships: Implied Cloud Strife/Barret Wallace, One-sided Zack Fair/Cloud Strife - Relationship
Series: Pretty Maids All in a Row [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1755568
Comments: 4
Kudos: 33
Collections: Airs Art Arch Fortnightlies





	(Ex-)SOLDIER in the Streets, Lady in the Sheets

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, you can tell by the title that I totally took this seriously. Beta-ed by the lovely Kiyoko from Discord.

Growing up, he remembered trying on his mother’s makeup, that she kept in a little dresser for special occasions. He was so young then, young enough to be excused with innocence when she found out. And so she had laughed and wiped down his face gently instead of giving him a spanking. The makeup remover stank so sharply that his four-year-old self was put off from trying again anyways.

He also remembered staring at Tifa from afar, always, always. Wanting to play with her, she of the midnight long hair and flowing pretty dresses. He’d named the warm feeling in his chest, the envy he’d felt a desire for her friendship. His mother had cooed over his fascination and imagined a puppy crush.

(He knew better now. And his mother… well, perhaps it was better that she never had the chance to know.)

His favourite dress of Tifa’s was the golden gown that her father had bought off a merchant from Midgar. In hindsight, it was a little gaudy, with its sequins and shiny beads, but in it, Tifa had looked like… like…

Like a princess.

His mother wasn’t the only one who’d thought it a crush then. Why else had he summoned Tifa that fateful night to tell her he was to become a SOLDIER?

Then Midgar happened.

His mother had warned him before she’d sent him off with kisses and a packed lunch. Said he should bring home a proper girl who wanted to settle, if possible, but that he should be wary of certain types because she’d heard that Midgar was full of conmen and thieves and people of _that_ sort of lifestyle, if he knew what she meant. He didn’t, not at the time, but he’d nodded anyway to ease her worries.

The Shinra grunt uniform didn’t just itch, stink and fit poorly on his untrained, newly-teenaged body. It, it just felt _wrong_ , constricting and hot. He dreaded putting it on every single day, and only did so in the hopes of reaching SOLDIER. Even as it felt like a dream, an afternoon mirage more than ever.

His first time encountering people of _that_ sort of lifestyle came about 6 months later. He was still too young for his older compatriots to bring to Wall Market then, but Wall Market wasn’t the only place to let loose on a young grunt’s day off. There was a little corner in Sector 8, above the plate, that wasn’t as wild as Wall Market, filled with jazz bars and hipster cafes. It was at one of the former that he met _her._

She was supposed to be the singer for that night. When she took the stage and started swaying her hips to the opening notes of the song, he couldn’t take his eyes off her. Unlike Tifa, she was a redhead with toned arms, a fully grown woman of curvy proportions. In her immaculate makeup and tasteful gown, she was nothing but beautiful.

She looked like a princess.

Imagine his shock when she opened up her mouth and out came a baritone.

The way he choked on his drink must’ve been comical, because all of the older grunts at the table burst out laughing. He learned what a “drag queen” was, and was mercilessly ribbed for the rest of the night.

He was… he was buzzing with too much inside to feel too embarrassed though. Too many emotions to name. Confusion, he was certain of. Remnants of shock, definitely. But he also noticed that he was not teased for being attracted to a crossdresser, as all the others had thought, no; just for his country bumpkin ignorance and childish naiveté, and maybe the light flutter in his chest beneath it all was hope.

He couldn’t sleep that night. The world seemed far more open, mysterious and frightening now, in ways he frustratingly couldn’t put a finger on.

But the brain was a strange thing. Sometimes, some undefined thought you chased after for hours on end came to you willingly at the most random of times. And so, it was in the barrack showers the next morning, while nodding off, that he came to this conclusion:

He, Cloud Strife, _also_ wanted to look like a princess.

It was a measure of the man he would eventually become that he merely paused in his washing, thoughtful. Or perhaps it was the sleep deprivation, and the certainty his life would not change much –yet. After all, the Shinra standard uniform was still obligatory for him almost at all times. Even SOLDIERs, who could wear whatever they wanted, were expected to dress for practicality. There was no room for gorgeous frivolous garments in their day-to-day life. But perhaps…

He didn’t return to the jazz bar for another 5 months, busy as he was, and by the time he showed up again, without his mates, she’d departed for better pastures. Other bars were more willing to pay higher for her lovely voice it seemed. Cloud approved; he remembered her baritone being smooth and velvety. Still, this left him quite bereft of advice, let alone a possible mentor figure in this wonderful new venture. He sat outside the bar on the steps for a very, very long time.

Then he headed for the nearest bookstore.

It was for a sister, he said. The bored bookstore clerk didn’t seem to care, anyways. And so he was left to skim makeup guides unmolested, which was just as well. He never knew there were so many types of makeup. Like, what exactly did a bronzer do, and what did the word ‘matte’ mean? And why would he want a concealer; did it work for calluses and light scars? He left the bookstore not much the wiser, with his head bursting, but luckily armed with a useful, new purchase.

Now, Shinra grunts didn’t have much in the way of privacy. From the mess hall to the shared bunks, everything was communal. But thankfully, Cloud knew the exact schedules of his roommates at this point and that they did not share his fascination with SOLDIER weaponry. So all he had to do was sneak back in and pop his new book between the sheaves of his much dog-eared SOLDIER weapons manual and there you have it, he could now spend entire afternoons learning the finer points of creating the cat eye look.

The question was, where could he store new makeup items, and when would he get to practice them? The answer came to him one day when he was running errands for an officer. Of course, a P.O. box. There were many and unremarkable in Midgar. He’d gotten past the training stage, so his schedule was no longer as rigorous. He had Sundays off now, so he could practice in a public bathroom whenever he felt like it.

It said something about Midgar’s culture that some of the other occupants in the men’s restrooms, the Midgar-born residents, barely bat an eyelid seeing a fifteen-year-old boy in civvies practicing applying eyeshadow. However, there were a few, clearly workers from other towns, who blinked and faltered. One drunkard even sneered at him one time, but Cloud, having buffed up over the summers and experienced a growth spurt, simply glared back until the man left.

He quietly packed up his glittery makeup case after he did though. Suddenly he didn’t quite feel like being pretty anymore.

That was when he decided his next step should be buying a dress. Not because he felt a need to hide, no, but it would be convenient to look like a girl; it would invite less trouble. Also, he’d been eyeing the lovely mint green empire-waist dress in that boutique over at Sector 4 for a while now, and he had a feeling it would fit him with some alterations. All he needed was some quality hair extensions and a padded bra and well. He’d pass for a flat-chested girl.

Thank goodness for his mother’s genes that gave him his delicate facial features.

And he was right. He looked quite pretty in his planned getup. More importantly, it felt _right_ ; it felt freeing. He smiled at his little pocket mirror.

Of course this little haven of his had to be short-lived.

For who should cross his path, on the very third day of his dress-ups, but Zack Fair.

Literally, in this case. Cloud was usually more aware of his surroundings but sue him, he was still busy admiring himself in his newest dress.

“Oof! Excuse me, miss.”

Cloud could almost feel himself pale. Normally, he would not have had the opportunity to learn, let alone recognise, the voice of a First Class SOLDIER, but Zack had specifically been sent to give a talk to all the lower-ranked Shinra grunts the other day. Cloud had spent the entire day zeroing in on that voice and taking notes like the SOLDIER nerd he was –and had even earned the honour of getting a signature from the man himself after that talk. Of course, it didn’t help that Cloud had taken his own helmet off, because the air-conditioner had broken in the conference room and the supervising officer was kind enough to close an eye to all the grunts removing their helmets.

So technically, Zack Fair might know what Cloud Strife looked and sounded like. If he remembered him at all. But he shouldn’t… because there were probably dozens of other strikingly blond Shinra grunts asking for his signature every other day, right? Right?

  
  
Cloud had never felt the need to curse his own admiration of SOLDIERs this much.

“Hey, you ok?”

Right, he was dressed up as a girl right now. As long as he kept his face hidden, and his voice high…

“Y-yes, I’m fine.”

  
“You sure? Pardon me, but you sound kinda… strange.”

Damn his post-puberty voice! Cloud coughed, and tried again. “Yes, I’m sure.”

“Ok… have we… met before, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Ok, this was too much. Abort, abort! “I’m s-sorry, I have to go now!”

  
  
And as he turned, he heard the last thing he wanted to hear. “Wait! Cl-Cloud?!”

He froze.

“It’s Cloud… right? Uh. You asked for my signature at the talk the other day. Yeah… ummm. Uh. Nice dress?”

Cloud ran. He could hear Zack calling him, but there was no way he was turning back.

For the first time in a long while, he couldn’t sleep again that night. What was gonna happen now? Would Zack report him to his superiors? Would he be outted to his bunkmates, his co-workers? While he didn’t think Matt and the others would be cruel enough to mock him about it, there was no saying how awkward things would get. And while there were no rules in the company handbook stating that Shinra grunts couldn’t wear whatever clothing they pleased on their off days, Cloud wouldn’t put it past the more… traditional higher-ups to fire him on some technicality.

How was he gonna become a SOLDIER now?

Never had he dreaded the rising of the sun more, save for that one time his seven-year-old self stole Farmer Herton’s turnips on a dare. He could barely just feign his cool in front of his roommates, and the prospect of breakfast made his stomach feel like lead. Luckily, used as they were to his occasional bouts of brooding by now, they did not question his silence.

The rest of the day passed in similar fashion. While he never got summoned to see the higher-ups, he kept expecting it at every turn. So lost was he in this tense state, that he nearly jumped when Matt called his name.

“What.” He grumped.

“Man, you really need to head to bed earlier tonight. You ain’t yourself without enough sleep. Anyways. Remember Mr. Fair? He says he needs some help cleaning his office.”

Great. The man was probably looking for an excuse to talk to him. Was he gonna receive a scolding, or worse, get blackmailed? The man had seemed nice during his talk and their brief, disastrous meeting, but who was to say what Zack Fair _really_ was like?

Good grief, what if he was a pervert?!

“There you are.” Damn, were all SOLDIERs this naturally quiet in moving? “Cloud, yeah? Please come in.”

Hearing the door close behind him did not help his nerves. Was he really gonna help clean Zack’s office? It looked a bit messy with the stacks of paperwork. Maybe that really was it?

“Ahem.” Cloud turned towards his current source of distress, who… didn’t look too comfortable in his own skin either. “While I really do need help sorting out this mess, I mainly called you over to, uh, apologise for the other day.”

What.

“…so yeah,” the man continued. “I shouldn’t have called you out like that. So here’s a little compensation.” And with that he pressed something into Cloud’s palm.

It was lipstick. Through the sheer plastic cap, Cloud could see that it was a tasteful, baby doll pink that absolutely complemented his own skin tone. From the label up the side of the barrel, this wasn’t some cheap brand either. But what. How…?

“I got my girlfriend to help me choose it,” Zack supplied helpfully. “Don’t worry, I didn’t tell her your name. Do you like it?”

Cloud could only nod silently. Zack might have a girlfriend, but Cloud knew what it felt like to have a crush now. And it sure as heck wasn’t what he’d felt for Tifa.

Instead it was something more like this:

Turning to sort out Zack’s papers for him immediately after to hide his blush. Splashing cold water on his face afterwards. Sighing when by himself, while idly wondering what Zack was up to in the following days. Fantasising that Zack would find him pretty whenever he put on a dress now. Secretly purchasing the man’s photo off his fan club. Pressing a kiss to said photo’s forehead before hiding it in his pillowcase.

Training harder than ever, hoping to garner his notice once more.

Yet the days rolled by and everything stayed distressingly, comfortingly the same. He would train, patrol, run errands for higher ups, banter with his workmates, relax on his days off with almost no sign of Zack in his life. While the man certainly knew Cloud’s face and name now, he could hardly call attention to the fact he knew a grunt on a first-name basis. That would just stink of favouritism.

Cloud had never felt more determined to rise up in the ranks in all seventeen years of his life.

And then.

And then he, Zack and Sephiroth went to Nibelheim.

He did not think of pretty dresses or makeup or his crush on Zack for a long, long time after that.

Well… except for that one time in Wall Market. He had to admit, he wasn’t just rushing around completing tasks for the sake of rescuing Tifa alone.

He’d loved that black and blue gown immensely. It was quite a pity he couldn’t keep it, not in front of Tifa and Aerith. It really brought out his eyes and cinched his waist, if he could say so himself.

It was like he’d said to Tifa. Nailed it.

Considering what happened after that, though, it had merely been a brief respite. And watching Jessie and Biggs and Wedge die? Took the joy right out of wearing his preferred outfit again. He’d never been that close to any of them, but a death of a comrade was never to be taken lightly.

And of course, after that there was saving Aerith from Shinra. Only to watch her be murdered by Sephiroth later on, and promptly be traumatised by it. Not to mention the detour he took turning into a living vegetable after taking a dunk in the Lifestream. Then the piece de resistance, of stopping Sephiroth from destroying the _entire fucking planet_.

Thing is, what was a little crossdressing after all that? If he, Cloud Strife, hero of all Gaia and mercenary extraordinaire, wanted to wear garters and lip gloss and chic summer dresses while minding his own business, who could stop him? Nobody, that’s who.

Still. It was… not the easiest thing he’d ever done, walking out in front of his friends all dolled up. Tifa knew, of course; it was impossible not to after she’d gotten that all-too-intimate glimpse inside his head. They’d not really had a proper talk about it, considering the circumstances, but with her steadier and now less intensely warm looks his way, he’d wager a guess that her interest in him had, thankfully, cooled. Which was just as well. She’d always have a place in his heart, but the one role she’d really wanted from him, he could never give.

Her eyes were all he was focusing on now, amidst the gasps, flurry of questions, Vincent’s apathetic sigh and Cid’s amusingly confused cursing. She nodded and smiled at him. Same as always.

But perhaps he should’ve been paying closer attention to the others, because Barret’s spluttering voice cut into the ruckus as he boomed, “Hey now! Y’all act like you’ve never seen a crossdresser before! Just because Cloud’s dressed up all pretty now don’t mean you oughta treat him –I mean her! –different, y’hear?!”

Subtle as a hammer to the face. “Thanks, Barret,” Cloud replied dryly. “And it’s _Miss_ Cloud to you.” And he thought he was _pretty_ now, did he? Interesting.

Maybe he’ll ask the man to escort him out later on. Can’t have a lady in a dainty dress strolling about the rubble-filled parts of Midgar alone, especially during cleanup. Best to have some muscle clear the path, maybe even hold up his umbrella to protect him from the sun.

He’d always thought Barret had nice biceps.

Well. They’ll see. But for now, it was enough, to sit among chatting friends, adjust his hair ornament and watch Barret sneak blushing glances at him while tucking into his own breakfast.

Cloud was, for lack of a better word, finally _home._


End file.
